Fire Emblem: Testimony of the Ylissean Conflicts
by Insomniac510
Summary: A retelling of Fire Emblem: Awakening, from when Robin first awakens in the fields of Ylisse to the conflict with the Fell Dragon Grima. Not really a straight novelization, made to feel as genuine as possible with attention given to some of the smaller details. Punches won't be pulled, as the wars will be harrowing and sometimes ugly, though triumph will be made all the sweeter.
1. Chapter 1: The Verge of History

_**The Verge of History**_

 _'Either through fortune or fate, they found him in a plain near Southtown, too far from the road and too removed from the farmers' fields for someone to simply happen upon him. But I thank Divinity every day that Lord Chrom was blessed with both legendary benevolence and keen eyes, and I shudder how history would have unfolded had he not...' - From the desk of Harriett the Scrivener, First Scribe of Ylisstol._

It was a pastorale day like any other that spring. The smell of Farmer Stockwell's freshly-tilled soil carried across the lake of grass with the gentle wind. The hum of a cicada droned on, its monotony broken by the occasional chirp of a bird, perched among the branches of one of the few trees which dotted the landscape.

Red Ditch Road separated the farmer's field from the expanse wild long grass which slowly climbed into the low hills, a frequent passage for those making the trip northward into Southtown from the coast, or perhaps from of the smaller farming communities which were lightly sprinkled all along the way. For all the traffic the Red Ditch Road saw, every single one of its travelers would have been forgiven for not even noticing the body pressed into the grass, laying there for what could have easily been days.

"Chrom, we have to do _something!_ "The plea came from a girl of modest height, not at all dressed for travel, even in the late spring air. She knelt on the grass next to the young man's body, which was comfortably slumped on his side, a clover pressed into his cheek and flecks of dirt all along his flank.

"What do you propose we do?" A tall man, standing straight and staring down at the unconscious man, responded.

"I," the flaxen-haired girl stammered, "I don't know." Again, her tone was pleading.

"Hold on, he's coming around." The tall gentleman, the one the girl called 'Chrom', knelt as the man in the grass rolled on his side, going flat onto his back. Slowly, his eyes flickered open, squinting as the bright sun blinded him. "I see you're awake now. There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know." Chrom received only a dreary grunt in response, so he continued. "Though I suppose, in a way, it's a good thing. If you were beneath one of those trees, we might have thought nothing of it. A farmhand out for a nap."

The words seemed to coax the man into proper alertness, as his eyes clarified and he attempted to sit up straight, though it seemed a task of great difficulty. Chrom offered his hand, and pulled him to his feet.

"Are you alright?"

The man brushed at his clothing, pulling away bits of grass which had stuck to his coat. An unusually nice coat for someone in a rural county. Finally, he spoke. "I believe so. Thank you, Chrom."

Chrom and another man, one which had been standing three or so paces behind to watch the scene unfold, exchanged a brief glance. "You know who I am?" Chrom asked, turning away from the armored cohort of his.

The young man in the coat smiled uncomfortably. "No, not really. I thought I heard your name as I was coming to." He did not miss the skeptical narrowing of eyes from Chrom's armored man from over his shoulder.

Chrom nodded, and cracked a small smile. It was a welcoming look. "Well, yes. My name is Chrom. This is my sister, Lissa. Back there is my lieutenant, Frederick. My I ask your name, sir?"

The man squinted for a moment, and sifted through his thoughts. It was like sifting through a murky pond for a dropped coin, and it his frustration showed upon his face. Then a small look of panic.

"I can't remember anything."

The girl, Lissa, looked visibly concerned, and rocked back and forth where she stood. Frederick, however, scoffed.

"Robin." He said after a long moment of panning his mind for answers. "It's the only name I know. I think my name is Robin."

"You think?" Lissa queried. It was not meant to come across as skeptical, but the man calling himself Robin winced nonetheless.

Chrom stepped forward again, and put a hand on Robin's shoulder, a compassionate look in his eye. "You don't remember a thing? Not what you were doing in this field before we found you?"

Another long pause followed as Robin tried to search for answers. The blood rushed from his cheeks, as each little attempt to snag a memory from his brain came up frustratingly empty. The frightening realization of an empty mind set in quickly. "No," he mumbled meekly.

"Oh please." Frederick stepped forward, the plates of his armor scraping together and clanking as he walked next to Chrom. "My lord, you cannot put value on the words of this man. He is likely playing you as the fool, part of some highwayman's ruse to have you drop your guard before he robs you blind."

Robin stood straight, flinching at the suggestion. "No, I swear! I don't even know who I am, let alone where we are or," he stopped himself mid-sentence. "Did you address him as 'lord', sir? And, and..." He looked to the youthful lady.

Chrom's smile returned. "He did. My sister and I are the prince and princess of the Halidom of Ylisse. Where you currently stand."

Robin sunk to one knee immediately, and bowed his head. Lissa turned to Frederick, a proud look on her face. "See, Frederick? He knows the proper etiquette, at least. Can you say the same about a nasty cutthroat?"

Frederick clenched his jaw in frustration. "My lord, I insist this man will bring us nothing but trouble. I say knock the fool on the head and leave him where we found him. Or bring him in chains to Southtown, if we must."

Chrom folded his arms and took a step back, accompanying the gesture with a sigh. "No. No, I believe him." He looked up to address Robin directly, pulling him to his feet again. "Stop bowing. I believe you, Robin. You're lost, and confused."

"He's probably a drunk!" Frederick interjected again. This time, Chrom shot him a very dirty look.

"That's _enough,_ Frederick. I want to at _least_ see him to Southtown in one piece. We'll stop in at the Stockwell and the Holden farmsteads along the way. We'll ask them if they recognize him." When Frederick's look didn't change, Chrom kept on laying out his intention. "We will be in Southtown before noon regardless. Come on, let us be on our way."

The knight sighed, and grasped Lissa's hand, who was already attempting to lead Robin out of the field. "Very well, my lord. But I insist we search him for any concealed weapons or trickster's tools. At the very least."

Chrom pulled a strand of his dark blue hair off of his brow, and nodded. "Make it so."

"Thank you, Chrom," Robin said hurriedly, while shedding his coat, folding it over his arm to pass to Frederick. "Or rather, thank you for your kindness, my lord."

The prince raised his hand and shook his head. "No, no, none of that. Chrom will be fine, if you would." Shrugging off the honourific with a chuckle, he glanced over at Frederick, who was diligently going through the coat. A search of it turned up nothing, and though Chrom and Lissa regarded the news with relieved sighs, the knight was unconvinced. He looked over at Robin, now down to a simple tan undershirt, leather gloves and boots, and his grass stained trousers.

"My lord, my lady, I ask that you turn away." The pair exchanged glances, and a small look of realization washed over both Robin and Lissa.

"Frederick, no! Don't make him strip in the middle of nowhere!" Lissa protested, and Chrom shook his head in agreement.

Scoffing once again, Robin was instead patted down, and told to remove his own boots one at a time. He seemed, at least, to have the coordination to remain on one foot for an extended period. The search, once again, turned up nothing at all.

"Are you satisfied now, you overly cautious sod?" Lissa snapped, snatching Robin's coat for him and finally standing between the knight and the amnesiac, making a point of separating them with a push to Frederick's plated gut. He responded with silence, though he did nod slowly.

Chrom clasped his hands together triumphantly, "very well! Let us be off. Perhaps someone will have been worried sick about you in town, Robin."

"I'd like that," Robin said, more than a tad morosely.

Their trip into town took slightly more time than the prince had originally projected. Questioning the farmers was slow going, with Chrom insistent on doing a thorough job and Lissa urging not to traipse through the fields. Much to Robin's dismay, he was not recognized by either Farmer Stockwell or the sons of the Holden farm, though with the news that the prince himself was coming knocking, bottles of wine and jars of honey both were offered as excited gifts of favour. Chrom at first turned them down, but after some gentle prodding and a reminder that Robin may not have eaten in days, the four of them obtained a small basket of raspberries, which had been consumed completely before they arrived in Southtown in the early afternoon.

"My lord, may I ask what a prince and princess are doing nearly alone in the middle of the country?" Robin queried as they approached the outskirts of Southtown.

"Recruitment, actually." Chrom's answer was dripping with barely-contained enthusiasm. "I am not the crown prince, that honour belongs to our older sister, Exalt Emmeryn, who currently rules. I command an order of knights known as the Shepherds, of which both Lissa and Frederick are a part. We had made a trip south towards the coast to see about bringing new members into the fold."

Robin nodded, holding his tongue about their lack of success as Chrom continued.

"We don't have the need or wish to press anybody into service, and so even when we come up empty, it also lets us check the pulse of the people."

Proudly, Frederick interjected. "The Shepherds work to keep the realm safe without having to dip into the reserves of Ylisse' army, which cannot afford spread itself thin to keep the peace. To serve in the Shepherds is to protect the people. I understand their hesitance to join into our ranks, but, to me, there is no higher honour in the world."

For the first time, Robin smiled at Frederick. His conviction seemed a double-edged sword instead of a simple source uptight sneers. "If it turns out that I have no other place to go, I'd happily offer whatever I can to your order, my lord. It seems picking empty-headed wanderers of the ground is what you're for, and I owe the Shepherds for it."

Chrom smiled. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Robin. Perhaps your sweetheart in Southtown has been worried sick about you since last night, and this will all be over come the end of the week." The thought comforted Robin, and he sighed contentedly as they made their way into town.

Southtown was a pretty sprawl. Built into a hillside where a river rushed from the higher flats gradually into a ravine it had carved over the eons, the large community was almost perfectly bisected by the water. Beautiful stonework adored the bridges, which were almost as iconic of Southtown as the large chapel which loomed over the marketplace, serving as not only the religious centre, but also the town hall.

As the group crossed over into the markets, they first noticed the stalls were untended and devoid of people, and then they caught sight of the town's militia out in force, caught in a standoff on the bridge between the marketplace and the chapel. A few bodies were strewn about the market, evidence of a recent altercation. Chrom and Frederick advanced on the militia immediately, calling out toward them.

"What's the meaning of this?"

One of the soldiers turned to face the prince as he heard them, and raised a hand. "I'm sorry sir, but this is not a safe place for," he trailed off at the sight of both Chrom and Frederick's apparel, as well as a mark on the princes' exposed shoulder. "My lord!" He and a few of the others saluted. "My apologies! Captain Desmond of the Southtown guard. We're in the middle of a situation here."

The captain, dressed simply in a breastplate and kettle helmet, pointed towards the large chapel across the way. "The town was hit by raiders about a half hour ago. Based on their accents they could be Plegian mercenaries, or just foreign pillagers." Robin's confused look was not met with any explanation. "They took hostages in the initial attack and have them held in the cathedral. If we advance, they kill them."

Desmond gestured across the bridge, where five guards in mismatched but effective armor were stood primed across the bridge, axes in hand in the pikemen attempted an advance. Robin narrowed his eyes as he looked around, wandering a few steps away from the crowd and over to the stone railing which kept people from wandering into the river canal below. Lissa noticed, but did not follow.

"They also have guards positioned by the east and north doors into the cathedral. Even if we skirted the bridge, they're prepared, and they have the numbers to face us on both fronts," Desmond continued.

"Are you sure about that?" Robin spoke up, and nearly everyone turned their gaze upon him. He stepped back towards Chrom. "Look at how they're spread out. They're tight against corners and they haven't made a push into the markets." The Shepherds, puzzled, watched as he continued to address the captain. "Look at the buildings across the canal. Most of them are easily tall enough to house archers, and if they pushed you back into the market, they would easily be able to thin you at a distance. They're also remaining careful in the event you decide to field archers. In fact I believe they already think you did. Every one of them is covered at one angle, at least."

Desmond nodded, resting his spear behind his head. "How does that help us? We still can't charge them, I'm not letting them kill hostages."

Chrom, enthralled and curious, let this peculiar scene play itself out. Robin shook his head and continued. "I'd be nervous if I was in their position. They're probably trying to scour the town for riches, and plot an escape. I say you give them a spook. Make them reevaluate their plan."

Frederick shook his head. "If they get scared they may begin killing people."

Robin grinned. "Not if the prince of Ylisse announces he's arrived. That would give them _plenty_ of reason to think their opposition just became insurmountable, and perhaps they'd be willing to bargain in exchange for the release of the hostages."

"Even if they do, I won't allow them to walk free!" Frederick protested.

"You wouldn't have to," Robin continued. "Lady Lissa and I aren't dressed like soldiers. I believe we could pass ourselves off as priests, get close enough to one of the side entrances, and secure the hostages as insurance for the militia to advance."

Desmond stood tall once again. "If it is alright with the Lord Chrom, the plan seems sound to me. You seem to know what you're doing, chap." The captain ran his fingers across his bushy moustache. "Though are you capable of fighting, sir, my lady? Forgive me but you seem a tad... Delicate for combat."

"I am not delicate!" Lissa announced defiantly. Chrom beamed proudly at his sister.

"I have no intention of getting us involved in the fighting. Just buy us time, and wait for a signal before advancing," Robin said.

Frederick whispered something Chrom's ear, only for the prince to bat him away much as a person would dissuade a fly from landing on them. "Very well, Robin. I trust you with both this plan and my sister. Though, Lissa, put Frederick's heart at ease and bring the logging hatchet with you." Robin's eyes widened nervously. "Just in case." Chrom's smile was just playful enough to send a pang down Robin's back. Lissa gripped the axe and pulled her ill-fitting cloak over her dress, hiding the axe beneath. "Now then, Robin, how would you have us negotiate?"

The rest of the plan was spelled out rather quickly, and as Robin and Lissa slipped out of the market and into a side street, they heard Chrom's announcement that he had arrived to the raiders. The pair made their way through the streets quietly, the eerie silence of a down hidden behind their shutters settling in.

"Robin?" Lissa quietly spoke up from beneath her hood. "How did you come up with all that?"

From behind his own hood, Robin shook his head. "It just seemed like the correct thing to do."

"I hope you're right." She looked down briefly. "I don't want Frederick to be right about you. It _does_ seem a bit suspicious, you know?"

The young man nodded. "I do, I do. But," he sighed. "I feel trapped in my head right now. Like there are memories in here that are impossible latch onto, despite being right within reach. I'm _somebody,_ I have to be. Back there? That made me feel," he searched for the word, "correct."

Lissa looked up at him for a long moment, then cracked into a smile very different then her carefree, playful grin. On her face was certainty. "Okay. Right! Let's go save those people." A skip in her stride, she lead on as they wound through the tight alleyways of Southtown, crossed the canal, and a few minutes later were standing across from the only guard standing outside the east entrance of the cathedral.

"Ready?" Lissa asked Robin. He nodded, glad to know he wasn't the sole arbiter of their place in the plan any longer. The girl wandered up to the guard, head bowed.

"No closer!" The brigand shouted, readying his axe. Lissa shot a wink at Robin from beneath her cloak, and steadily tittered her way towards him. Withdrawing her hood from her head, letting it fall to her shoulders, he seemed to hesitate briefly. "Get out of here, little girl. Or I'll tie you to the pews like the rest of 'em."

Robin watched uncertainly, desperately hoping to intervene, though it wasn't like he was any more capable of fighting than he was a moment earlier when he formulated the plan. He breathed in, and waited for her to put on the priestly act.

What he saw instead was Lissa slide the hatchet out of her sleeve and with a blinding flash of speed, slam it against the side of the ruffian's head, the butt of the axe head colliding with his temple with a sickening crack, one that made Robin squirm in his coat. The man fell to the ground in a heap, either incapacitated or dead, and the realization made Robin's stomach almost leap into his throat. It took him a moment to get himself together, realizing Lissa was already dragging the body from the door into the alley.

"Well, that's that," she muttered disgustedly, hiding the brigand out of plain sight. Turning up towards Robin's shocked expression, she shrugged. "I know." She pulled her hood up again, a grim absence of a smile on her face. "I don't like it either," she continued, and pulled out a small metal pendant, which shared its chain with a small whistle. Humming a quiet prayer under her breath as she placed a hand on the side of the brigand's bleeding head, glittering sparkles of light jumped from her fingers, and in a blood-curdling display, the bone seemed to repair and restructure itself, the wound closing.

Robin continued to watch in astonishment, but found himself compelled to speak up. "The plan was to _talk_ our way in for good reason, you know." He pauses while she held up a hand, then went on as she stood again. "I didn't want to get anybody into unnecessary danger."

Lissa nodded, but began marching towards the door again. "This is what being a Shepherd is, sometimes. Frederick warned me not to take chances when an opportunity showed itself like that, and I didn't."

The inside of the chapel was to be expected. A large hall bathed in the coloured light of the sun, filtered through the beautiful stained glass window in the upper levels. Rows of pews extended from an altar on the west wall, upon which were two dozen odd villagers, all frightened and huddled together, the majority of them roped to the heavy wooden benches. A lone guard, a tall man brandishing a boarding axe, was on the far side of them when he saw Lissa and Robin enter, and began shouting at them.

"What do you think you're doing, sister? You're going to get these people up and killed if you don't step right back out that door, _now!"_

"No," Lissa drew the hatchet again, and charged the large man. Robin didn't have time to watch the melee, as he caught the slightest bit of movement out of the corner of his eye, another hostage taker lunging at him with a short blade from the right.

Reflex took over, but Robin didn't flee or duck away. He sidestepped the blade, and his fingers twisted into a quick little movement. A powerful bolt of static jumped from his outstretched fingertips and into the assailant's ribs, causing him to immediately fall to the ground, convulsing a couple of times before ceasing movement entirely. Robin looked down at him, adrenaline still pumping, and in a snap decision, he spun on his heel, calling toward Lissa.

"Princess! Down!" She was in the middle of ducking and dodging away from the large criminal's blows, which proved to be a far greater threat than she'd anticipated. At Robin's call, she instead leaped backwards, only for her attacker to be consumed in the same arcs of electricity called a second earlier. It wasn't enough to drop him immediately, but a follow up axe blade to the belly was. A few of the hostages yelped at the sight, and Robin went to tend to them.

Lissa, however, removed the whistle around her neck once again, and blew into it. Normally the pleasant little sound would call a sheep dog, but in this instance, it was the signal which called the militia and the other Shepherds to charge. Screams of panic from the raiders were heard from outside the church, and the call to kill the prisoners went unanswered by their fallen cohorts. A few went to flee inside, only to be cut down by Chrom himself.

It took some time to gather up the fleeing bandits, the militia being aided by Frederick. To be rescued by the prince and princess sent a surge of excitement among the captured villagers, and soon there was plenty of gossiping and giddy chatter among them. Before long, order returned to Southtown.

Lissa was recounting their version of events to Frederick excitedly, as Chrom returned from debriefing the captain. "One second he was standing there with a silly, dumb look on his face, and then next he was calling down lighting from the sky!"

The stern knight didn't appear to be much enthralled by the embellished tale, though "I am glad his plan went off without anybody beyond these outlaws getting hurt," he said. "Robin, you are an unusual fellow, but I do believe you've at least proven your trustworthiness."

With a relieved smile, Robin bowed his head to Frederick. "Thank you, sir."

Chrom pulled on the young man's shoulder proudly, and patted him on the back. "Good to see that your reflexes still have their memory. You're quite the magician, Robin."

Robin bowed his head again, this time much deeper. "Is everybody else well?"

The prince nodded. "Yes, yes. Desmond will be throwing the surviving raiders, including their leader, into the cells. They're not speaking as of yet, but he seems to think that they were hired by Plegia to plunder the town's treasury, as well as sow some discord among the populace." Chrom was speaking more to Frederick and Lissa now, rather than assuring Robin. "I'd like to stay the night to see if Desmond can get any more information for us to bring back to the capital, before setting out in the morning."

Frederick cleared his throat, wordlessly interjecting his opinion. Chrom nodded. "I understand this puts us behind schedule, but I think it's worth looking into, don't you?"

Lissa rocked on her heels as she nodded. "I do! It would be nice to get a decent meal again. I haven't had anything but rations and campfire rabbit for a week and a half!"

The rest of the day was mostly busywork. Plenty of villagers had nothing but thanks and praise for the Shepherds, the militia had to reorganize and clean up the marketplace from the attack, and the town treasury had to be accounted for. Robin felt rather useless in the business of the aftermath, but at the same time, he was already starting to feel less frustrated with his uncooperative mind, even with the disappointing lack of anybody in the town who recognized him. Before the end of the day, he found Chrom and assured him that what he'd said before they arrived in Southtown had been genuine. He had every intention of remaining with the Shepherds until he knew where it was he belonged.


	2. Chapter 2: Threads

**Threads**

 _'We were inextricably tied to the damned cult of the Fell Dragon. It didn't matter how few of us were part of the Grimleal, Plegia was always considered the heart of Grima's worship. Whether it was the Ylissean Exalt Mercury, King Taliesin of Avalon, or Emperor Walhart of Valm, they all used that same excuse. "Plegia is a nation of murderous, barbaric monsters," they would preach to their soldiers. All of them slavered at the thought of burning any trace of our nation from history, and each and every one of us along with it.' - Idris, Captain of the Plegian 33_ _rd_ _Battalion_

Celebrating not only the prince and princess' unannounced arrival, but a daring rescue besides was not a small feat for the people of Southtown. A disorganized, impromptu festival was erected as people from all over the borough came to get a glimpse of Chrom and Lissa through the windows of the chapel, where the pews had been pushed to the side to make room for a long table piled high with food. It was quite the bother for the lot of them, especially Frederick, although to the surprise of none, Lissa seemed to flourish in the attention and adoration.

The revelry started late into the evening and carried on well past midnight, despite Chrom's many attempts to slip away. By the time the Shepherds had found their way to the accommodations provided for them in the clergy's quarters, Frederick had been lamenting that they likely only had four or five hours until dawn.

Robin's room had no window, but it was hardly uninviting. The warm light from some candles on a nearby desk gave the wooden walls a pleasant orange glow, the gentle flickering bringing a smile to his face. With a yawn, he began to remove clothing, the soft bedspread inviting him to sleep. After he folded his coat in a neat little square and set his boots near the door, he looked to his brown leather gloves. They were quite comfortable, and extremely well-tailored to the shape of his hand. He hadn't even noticed he'd been wearing them since he woke up in the middle of the field earlier that day.

Hastily removing them, he set one on the nightstand mere inches from the headboard, and was about to do the same with the other, when he noticed a design emblazoned upon the back of his hand. A stylized pattern of six eyes, by the looks of it, in a dark purple colour. Robin smiled, brushed it gently with one finger, and sighed. It meant nothing to him. It caused no flashes of inaccessible memory to come to the forefront of his thoughts, but it brought him some comfort. It seemed like it had some significance, and it meant that he had an identity one way or another.

With that thought bouncing around in his head, he finished undressing, blew the candles out, and collapsed onto the bed, pulling the blankets tightly over his shoulders. Speculation on his possible identity kept him comfortable for a time, but soon enough, it gave way to worry. Robin curled himself up into a ball beneath the sheets and shivered, sharply inhaling several times, battling against all sorts of unsavory anxieties as his mind raced with unanswerable questions. ' _What if I never get my memory back?' 'What will I do if Chrom decides I'm too much of a liability, and casts me out on my own?' 'What if nobody_ ever _recognizes me,'_ And finally, _'what if nobody cares?'_

In time, however, even anxiety can be overcome by fatigue, and Robin slipped into a dreamless slumber.

Without the light of the sun to shine through a window, or the sound of a rooster welcoming in the dawn, Robin was left with little reason to wake up on time. He slept right through Frederick's pounding on the door, and instead awoke, once again, to Chrom, this time firmly prodding him in the shoulder.

"This is becoming a habit," Chrom jested as he saw Robin's eyes flicker open slowly, himself stifling a yawn. Neither of them apparently got much sleep. "Come on, Frederick put together some tea to get us moving. I'd like to be back on the road soon."

Robin nodded slowly, and pushed himself into a sitting position. Chrom moved to walk back out the door once he was confident that the young man actually was awake, giving Robin the chance to see the mark on his shoulder. His memory of the night before was jogged immediately, and he sat up straight, adjusting his smallclothes to be somewhat more presentable.

"Oh, Chrom, can I ask you something? I promise it won't take long."

Chrom arched his eyebrow, smirking. "Don't you want to get dressed first?"

Mid-yawn, Robin nodded, waving his hand reassuringly. "I will, I will. I just wanted to know," he pointed towards Chrom's shoulder. "Your tattoo there. Is that common in Ylisse? Do different designs mean different things?"

His curiosity piqued, Chrom stepped back into the room and leaned against a standing wardrobe. "It's not a tattoo, it's more of a birth mark. The Brand of the Exalt. Those who can trace their lineage back to the First Exalt of Ylisse generally have it somewhere on their person." Chrom bent to the side to give Robin a better look, but when he caught his face drop a little, he stopped abruptly. "Why?"

Robin rubbed the back of his right hand with his thumb again. "Well, I found this tattoo while undressing last night. I thought it might have some significance, but if it's not tradition around here, than," he trailed off, revealing the six-eyed mark as he spoke.

Chrom's expression turned grim, and he glanced aside with a pronounced sigh. "Damn it."

Robin had gotten dressed in the time it took for Chrom to gather up the other Shepherds, though he hadn't had time to step out for something to eat. Seated in the chair, he was trapped in an uncomfortable, lengthy silence as Lissa sat on the made bed, Chrom quietly leaning against the wardrobe once again.

Frederick strode inside, and locked the door behind him as he entered. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes were steely, fixated directly on the back of Robin's hand. "He's been lying this whole time."

Lissa sat up straight immediately. "Frederick, no!"

Frederick turned to Lissa, towering over him as he barked at her. "Tell me you are not sitting there and defending a _Grimleal_ from me. Have you lost your senses, my lady?" Sinking into the mattress beneath Frederick's burning glare, she looked away. The knight's voice dropped as he turned to Chrom, pleading with him. "I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt when it the danger to you was highway robbery, my lord, but this," his rant was stopped by a single raise of Chrom's hand.

"Makes sense," Chrom interjected. He turned towards Robin, who sat rigid, pale-faced, and bewildered. "Grimleal are a religion," he began, only to get interrupted by Frederick.

"A cult."

The comment was not dignified with a response. "The Grimleal pay their reverence to the Fell Dragon, opposite to Ylisse' worship of the Divine Dragon. The friction between both religions has been a cause of enormous friction between Ylisse and our westerly neighbour Plegia for centuries, as the Grimleal has been centralized there since they were formed." Chrom sighed as he continued. "That symbol on your hand designates you as one of them. Despite your lack of the accent, it's also safe to assume that you were Plegian."

" _Is_ Plegian," Frederick said snidely. For the first time, Robin witnessed Chrom become visibly angry.

"You forget yourself, Frederick! I understand your concern, I know where it comes from, but we are _not_ here to accuse him of every crime you can think of simply because his claims are extraordinary. Has he given us reason not to trust him? Did he not put his own life in far greater danger than was necessary, just to rescue people he'd never met? As far as I'm concerned, he _has_ at the _very least_ earned the benefit of the doubt." Despite the differences in their height, Chrom's presence towered over his lieutenant in that moment. "Have I made myself clear?"

Frederick hung his head and rested himself against the door, nodding wordlessly. With a deep sigh, Chrom ran a hand through his hair and returned to Robin. "The Grimleal's god, Grima, has been dead since the First Exalt destroyed him. Their largest offenses usually have something to do with human sacrifice, but they also deal in eldritch magics. Dark arts beyond the sorcery you demonstrated yesterday. Practicing such magic has been banned by law in Ylisse, not only for its devastating capability, but also its unpredictability. Practitioners blind to the consequences have warped themselves in a plethora of ways, including," he paused and winced at the thought, "memory loss."

Robin's heart sank, and he slumped in the chair. "I'm a dark wizard, then? Wiped my own memory by some freakish accident?"

Lissa slowly moved from her perch on the bed, sidling up next to Robin's seat. "But at least you know where you're from, right?" She offered him a warm, if pathetically weak, smile. "You could return to Plegia, perhaps."

Robin's palms struck the wooden arms of the chair. "No! If I lost my memory because I'm a member of some murderous, black magic cult, and my involvement _somehow_ scoured my brain of everything," he stood, knocking the chair back into the desk with a loud thwack. "Give me _one_ reason why I should be proud of that. Why should I go home to that?"

Grabbing his coat from the chair, Robin stepped towards Frederick, looking him dead in the eye. There was far less of a height difference between the two of them than he'd noticed before. "Not one _shred_ of this is good news to me. Not my homeland, not my religion, not that my predicament is probably my fault, nothing. As far as I'm concerned, sir knight, the only place where I'm going to even be remotely welcomed is among the Shepherds." He shivered once before continuing. "As long as you stand there with your accusations, I know that won't happen. And I understand your suspicion. Nothing about this seems likely. The plan I came up with yesterday was sloppy and risky, and I'll bet you've even suspected me of having colluded with the brigands as a result." That comment in particular caused an eyebrow to crawl up Frederick's forehead.

Robin stepped back. "So what would you have me do to trust you? Bow and pledge fealty to lord Chrom? Perhaps swear a blood oath? What do I need to do to find one little bit of certainty and stability?" It wasn't until he stopped ranting that he realized he was breathing heavily, his squared shoulders rising and falling.

Nobody spoke for quite some time. Lissa made a few attempts, but no words escaped her lips. It was Frederick who finally broke the tension. "How long did you have all that saved up?"

Robin slumped back in the chair again, and squeezed the ridge of his nose. "Since I went to bed. I had a lot of time to think about it."

The knight nodded, and sat on the foot of the bed, facing the man at eye-level for the first time. "Alright, Robin." He spoke softly and plainly. "You read me like a book, it seems. But either I'm right and you're a fantastic thespian, or you're as frightened as a man who is in your position has the right to be." He extended his hand, open and inviting for a shake. "I'm willing to treat you like a Shepherd if you're willing to act like one." He didn't hesitate to add that, "you've already acted the part so far."

Robin looked up, and glanced at Frederick's face. He wasn't smiling, but there was a warmth about him that wasn't there earlier. Apologetic, perhaps. Or hoping he had been wrong, but had yet to truly prove it, Robin couldn't say for sure. He accepted the handshake, exhaling with relief.

Chrom smiled at the sight, and offered Robin a hand as well, watching him get to his feet. "Glad to see you two getting along," he smirked contentedly. "And it'll be good to have someone with a mind for strategy and spells both along with us."

Robin shook his head. "With respect, my lord, no. No magic. If magic is what wiped my memory, _especially_ if I did it myself, I'm not touching it. Especially if I have no knowledge of how to properly use it. I'm not using instinct alone.

The prince nodded at that and rolled his shoulder. "Normally I'd persuade you otherwise, but I'll happily respect your wishes." He picked up Robin's gloves from the nightstand and tossed them in his direction. "Suppose I'll have to start teaching you swordsmanship instead." Spinning on his heel, Chrom set foot out the door, shouting out into the hallway, "let's get a move on then, shall we?"

Lissa followed first, giving Robin a gentle pat on the arm, her smile becoming far more uplifting until she too stepped through the doorway. With only Frederick and himself in the room, Robin looked up, preparing to say something, only to be met with a raised hand and a dutiful smile. No other words were exchanged as Robin gathered his belongings, and the pair left the quarters behind, ultimately rejoining their fellow Shepherds and setting off on the road once again.


	3. Chapter 3: Unwelcome Change

**Unwelcome Change**

 _'Magic inherently makes exceptions within the axiomatic foundations of the world, but the eldest and darkest shatters them in their entirety. Doing such a thing with the fundamental rules of matter and causality, the pillars of existence itself, brings with it consequences unpredictably discordant and unfathomably catastrophic.' - Fastidious Miriel, Ylissean Collegiate of Lavenwick_

Before setting out of Southtown, Chrom collected what information he could from their captain of the guard, but ultimately their interrogations turned up little. The raiders were sellswords, they took a job to sack a town and raid it for valuables, nothing more. Disappointed, but not deterred, the prince left in remarkably high spirits, the journey to Ylisse' capital ahead.

"You're going to love it," happily chirped Lissa, who was currently set atop Frederick's horse. The knight himself was walking alongside Chrom, speaking with him about some political matter, Robin figured.

"Yeah?" Robin's response was a little distant, his ears still trying to pry some morsels of intrigue from the prince's conversation.

Lissa nodded. "Ylisstol's busy at all hours, so it's never boring. And you should see it from the palace walls! It stretches out in all directions, with the streets winding around the markets and parks," her gesturing was enthusiastic, but impossible to decipher. Robin only smiled. "I'm not good at describing it. Just trust me. The capital is going to spoil you for all other cities."

The two made idle chit-chat for most of the day, the others eventually rejoining the conversation. Frederick's horse was relieved of Lissa's presence once she was given some firewood to pull along in the cart the Shepherds had brought to carry their various travel supplies. The logs lasted the next few nights, and the group periodically gathered more along their two-and-a-half week journey back to Ylisstol.

Along the way, the legend of the First Exalt Quinnius was recounted by Chrom, regaling the story of when the Fell Dragon Grima first laid waste to the world. His version was that which was told to most children, and lacked the subtle details that Robin frequently interrupted to ask about. So it was said, Grima rose out of the Mamorthod desert to the continent's north, and immediately began a vicious campaign of destruction. Every great nation fell apart trying to hold back the chaos unleashed by his sudden appearance, the remnants of their armies coming together under Quinnius' banner. Wielding Falchion, sword blessed by the revered Divine Dragon Naga, Grima was killed, falling to what would later become Plegia. Quinnius, now a great hero, founded Ylisse with a group of survivors, with those possessing the blood of Naga's chosen serving as the exalted rulers of the nation. Thus he became the First Exalt of Ylisse.

Occasionally Chrom took Robin from their campsites to practice tracking and hunting. Chrom was a capable shot with a bow, but mentioned he would have made a poor archer on the battlefield, by comparison. Patience is a luxury not afforded to the soldier, but to the hunter, who was allowed to lie in wait until the perfect shot could be made. Robin was a lousy shot, but very quickly picked up the ability to track, and soon was acting as Chrom's spotter for rabbits and venison, which made up nearly the entirety of their diet along the journey.

Basic politics were covered by Frederick, who went into the complex relationship Plegia had with Ylisse, exacerbated by the former playing host to the Grimleal and the latter being a theocracy of the polar-opposite system of belief. Topping it with an offhanded mention of the militant Regna Ferox to the north, and Robin made a note to himself to brush up on history at the first opportunity. History books were a rarity to those on the open road, and yet he yearned for their presence.

Time only allowed for Chrom to teach Robin swordplay a handful of times, the demands of travel taking precedence. It was mostly just before meals where they found the opportunity. Though Chrom, as the most martially-inclined of his siblings, had in fact inherited the very same Falchion of legend, Robin was instead taught with decidedly safer implements. Wooden practice swords purchased in a hamlet three days out of Southtown served to educate him in the basics, from defending oneself to the least tiring chops and thrusts necessary to outlast an opponent in a straight fight. It wasn't much, but between it and the history lessons, it kept Robin preoccupied along the way.

Eight days from Ylisstol, shortly after dusk, the Shepherds sat around a dwindling fire, a half-cooked rack of deer being tended to by Frederick.

"Why are the bugs leaving _you_ alone, Chrom?" A fussy Lissa whined, spastically flailing in her attempts to swat a quartet of insects which found her absolutely fascinating.

Chrom, in the midst of stringing up his tent, chuckled and shook his head at the sight. "Misery builds character, dear sister."

A dissatisfied pouting followed, followed by further flailing. "Oh, come on, they're just after me because _I_ don't smell like smoke! It's not my fault my eyes hurt when it gets near me."

Rolling his eyes, he looked over at Robin, who was hammering one of Chrom's tent pegs into the ground. The prince stood up, quickly asking, "would you mind finishing pitching this?" The response was a shrug and a nod.

"Lissa," Chrom clapped his hands together, walking over in her direction, "why don't you come with me to gather more logs for the fire. Frederick looks like he's struggling to keep the heat up with what he has."

More pouting, more whining, but eventually Lissa decided that labour and a slight chill was a worthwhile trade to be rid of the bugs. Mercifully, they didn't seem to want to follow her, paradoxically both drawn to the light of the fire and repelled by the foulness of the smoke. The pair wandered through the woods, and Chrom holding the fabric firewood carrier in his left hand.

"One person," Chrom muttered.

"What?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to downplay his complaining. "What I mean is that I'm hoping Sully has had better luck on her recruitment trip than we did."

Frowning, Lissa skipped a few paces ahead, turning toward her brother and walking backwards. "What's wrong with Robin?"

Chrom cracked a smile. "Nothing, nothing. But it took an amnesiac to be willing to sign on with us. None of the villagers seem to want to leave their homes. Still reeling from father's campaign into Plegia, maybe."

Lissa crooked her head sympathetically, but then twisted it into a playful smirk. "And you think _Sully_ is the type of person who will have better luck inspiring people to join the Shepherds than you?" The question was asked flatly.

"Hey, I didn't give you permission to go badmouthing my friends," Chrom chuckled, gently pushing his sister. The siblings cheerfully wandered along for a few minutes, occasionally stopping to pick up a fallen branch for the fire or kindling for the next day.

As they continued, they found themselves in a small clearing of trees, caused by a massive ash having fallen recently. The trunk had rotted in some places, but Lissa found some usable dried branches, and the two of them began hacking pieces off to carry back.

The two of them paused briefly as they saw a large flock of birds suddenly rise up from the woods all around them, taking off into the night sky. "Was it something I said?" Chrom asked, happily returning to the log. Lissa frowned.

"Hold on," she stepped back, leaving her hatchet buried in the bark. "The crickets stopped chirping right when the birds did."

"What? We just startled them."

"Five minutes into chopping?" Lissa shook her head. "They would have left already. Somethings wrong."

The sudden crashing of trees in the distance confirmed Lissa's suspicions. "Earthquake?" She yelped, suddenly bracing herself against a nearby maple. Chrom, however, stared off through the trees, his eyes narrowing.

The sight of dozens of trunks falling in succession almost directly toward them made him go wide-eyed. "Lissa, run!"

"What?" She looked toward him, then through the trees. A nearly identical look of horror washed over her, as well. They both took off in the opposite direction, the sound of cracking and crashing lumber quickly filling their ears. Looking over her shoulder to see the faint, ominous glow of flame joining the the quakes, Lissa gasped. "Chrom, fire!" She shouted, at the very moment a sudden explosion of molten fire consumed a nearby tree.

"This way," Chrom grabbed Lissa's hand, pulling her into a hard-angled turn. Over his shoulder, he saw the environment partially obscured by smoke, and his heart sank. Cracks in the earth began opening at their feet, and with his fingers tightly clenched around her wrist, he sprinted as hard as his legs could take him, constantly shifting to where the smoke was thinnest. The heat hadn't quite caught up to him yet, but choking was a far larger threat in that moment.

Not so for Robin and Frederick. The pair of them were privy to a far less subtle form of devastation. When they first experienced the quake, the land cracked beneath them and bent, one side of the large slab of earth they stood upon sinking into magmatic fire, the maw of the crust beckoning them inside to be devoured.

Unable to keep its footing and having fallen into the infernal crevasse, the agonizing screech of the horse hung on Robin's ears while he clawed at the grass, desperate to keep himself from sliding in as well. The angle of the earthen platform gradually steepened, and even with a handhold, he couldn't remain there forever. He took a deep breath, sulfurous fumes tearing at his nostrils, and his grip slipped as he coughed. Fingernails dug into dirt, and he dared to look somewhere other than the molten rock below. The sky was raining fire, boulders of rapidly cooling lava striking the earth all around.

Robin was almost too caught up in the hellfire to even register that the earthen slab had been struck by one of the projectile rocks, knocking it back on balance. Taking the opportunity to clamber to his feet, no sooner was he upright than Frederick's shoulder was in his chest, forcing him off of the elevated island and into the thick branches of a nearby tree, which managed to remain stable, if singed, by the eruption.

The both of them tumbled through the canopy to the forest floor, buffeted by twigs, leaves, and cinders all the way down. The danger was still quite imminent, as with the lava came a forest fire next to them. A path free of smoke, convection, and magma out presented itself straight ahead, and after recovering from the impeded-yet-painful collision with the ground, Robin started to sprint for the clearing.

"Robin!" Frederick's voice was barely audible through the quaking. He came hobbling up from behind, his armor dented in several places, one of the plates on his shoulder having caved in enough to cause severe bleeding. Robin went wide-eyed at the sight, and immediately slipped himself under Frederick's good arm, assisting his escape the rest of the way.

"Are you alright?" A strained nod was his answer. "What's happening?"

"I wish I knew! Keep going!"

The air still not clean, they kept up their pace towards the very edge of the trees, and even then ran until they were sure the earth was no longer going to give way where they stood. They both fell to their knees, gasping for fresh air. Frederick faced the destruction from where they came, clawing at his shoulderplate to get it off, to which Robin immediately leaped in assistance.

Where there once was a small wood on a prairie flat, there was now a towering, twisting mountain of burning land. Smoke rose from the wildfires which slowly consumed every living thing which dared to remain in what was left of the woods. Wiping ash and dirt from his face, Frederick's jaw fell agape.

"Divinity save us, what could have done this?"

On the opposite side of the freshly-formed mountains, Chrom and Lissa continued their laboured sprint out of the flames, clearing it with torn bits of their clothes pulled over their mouths and noses. After finally finding their way to a clearing free of the destruction, they were faced with a similar horrific vista of the chewed forest.

A moment to breath, however, they did not get, as Lissa pointed behind them, where a massive crystalline eye was suspended twelve feet in midair. "Chrom, what is that?"

A pair of bodies fell from the eye like tears, impacting the ground hard enough to throw up dust, adding to the haze of ash which already permeated the air. Chrom pushed his sister behind him, and pulled his sword free of its scabbard. Narrowing his eyes, he waded through the cloud for a few steps.

An inhuman, warbling roar came from just ahead, where two pairs of dull red lights stood. The bodies that came from the eye were dusty, hollow things, wearing stitched masks and moving as if they actively fought rigor mortis. The lights came from their eyesockets, which were mostly obscured but stared right back at Chrom. One of them roared again and charged him, brandishing a wicked, tarnished blade.

Against Robin, Chrom was an instructor, using simple, effective, but commonplace techniques. Against these abominations, the prince swung the Falchion with the skill of a master and the speed of a demon. Though the stitched creature's movements were uncharacteristically fast, Chrom was faster, and had cut clean through its stomach before it was even able to bring the rusted sword down. Already moving to the other one, he had dismissed the first as vanquished. Halfway to his second mark, Chrom heard movement from both in the dust cloud, and to his surprise the cadaver he'd already stuck down was on him again, this time able to push him back with a flurry of furious, uneven strikes.

In the melee, Chrom lost track of everything except the threat directly before him. Forced into a corner, he finally found an opportunity when the creature overextended to slide to the side and sever its spine, twisting the Falchion for good measure. The polyphonic groan was satisfying enough to hear, but it was quickly interrupted by Lissa's yelp.

The princess was capable of fighting unsuspecting fools who were quick to write her off as a non-threat, but an unthinking berserker was a different story altogether. A poorly-sharpened logging hatchet was not enough to deter the monster's advance, who had pushed her all the way back into a tree, missing with its deadly swings by hair-lengths each time. It needed only to wait for Lissa to tire or slip up once to make its kill. A blade pushed through the back of its face halted that inevitability.

At first, Lissa thought Chrom had come to her aid. Instead, a youth stood before her, younger than she was, probably, given his slight stature. Clad in a navy mask and hair to match, he stepped back from the shambling assailant as it slumped to the ground, its flesh gradually dissolving into a purple-grey sludge.

"Quite an entrance," Chrom said, and the boy jolted, slipping his sword into its sheathe hastily.

"You saved me!" Lissa stammered, her heart still racing. "I, I can't thank you enough." She pulled herself off the tree and hugged him, gratitude and adrenaline working in equal measure. "What's your name? I owe you everything!"

He wriggled out of Lissa's grasp slowly, and stood back, glancing up at the smoking crags. His shoulders fell. "Marth," his voice fit his size. Definitely a teenager, Chrom noted. "You may call me Marth."

Chrom raised an eyebrow. "Someone must have thought highly of you, naming you after a legend like that."

Marth shrugged. "I'm not here to talk about me."

"Fair enough. What about all this?" Chrom gestured to both the bodies and the molten remains of the forest road. He turned to look at the crystal eye as well, but it had disappeared.

Marth shook his head, already starting to walk away. He visibly shuddered before he spoke again. "We'll meet again, young prince." Marth didn't break stride as he wandered into the untouched part of the woods.

"What?" Chrom frowned, and took a few steps after him. "Hey, wait!" A tug on his cloak stopped him. Lissa.

"We can't chase him right now, we need to find Frederick and Robin," her voice was ragged and weak. If Chrom didn't know any better, he'd have assumed she was on the verge of tears. Nodding, he agreed.

The next handful of hours that night were spent by both parties searching each other out, as well as for any other survivors. Though they did finally rendezvous, there was no sign of anybody else even being present at the time of the eruption, nor was there a trace of the young lad Marth.

"We have to warn the capital of this," Frederick concluded, to absolutely no argument. "Without," he sighed solemnly. "Without our cart, we'll have to resupply in Kostern, and we'll have to make it there by tomorrow or we'll lose lots of time."

Chrom concurred, but with a caveat. "I'm not doing a forced march until we're sure that wound is okay, Frederick. Lissa can take a look at it when her strength returns."

Even with the new arrangements, the originally prospected eight days from Ylisstol was only reduced to six, and they still had yet to get a wink of sleep. Nobody did. They each walked until another suggested to stop, none of them brave enough to let down their guard when the ground itself could swallow them at any moment. It wasn't until they could see the town of Kostern the next afternoon that they all collapsed from exhaustion. One hasty nap later, they finally made it to the town's inn by sunset, each falling into a bed and not reemerging until the following noon.


	4. Chapter 4: Shepherds

_**Shepherds**_

 _'Initially a project of the prince's own fancy, the Shepherds were quick to evolve from a simple gaggle of those mismatched and unfitting of other companies to the lead strike force and vanguard for the Ylissean army, not to mention Exalt Chrom's personal guard.' - A Brief History of Ylisse, Volume 8 of 12_

Compared to the disaster they had endured, nothing else particularly noteworthy occurred as the Shepherds completed their trip to the capital. It was a stressful journey, keeping an eye open for any signs of further destruction, but it seemed that fate had some mercy to spare, qw Ylisstol and the surrounding region was spared.

Robin didn't even realize how close they were until they emerged from one of the valleys. The homes of light grey stone dotted the hillsides, sitting among farms which rolled over the countryside. The walls of Ylisstol, sheet white and adorned with the greens and blue of the city's heraldry, protected the urban heart which blossomed off of a tall, lightly forested ascent. In the skies above, massive creatures with unimaginable wingspans glided among the clouds.

Robin had to squint to properly tell what he was looking at, the bright sun and distance hiding the details. "Are those birds?"

"Pegasi," Chrom and Frederick answered simultaneously, eliciting an excited gasp from Robin, entranced at the chance to see a flying horse. "Ylisse's army fields the largest number of them out of any other nation, I do believe," the knight continued proudly, his eyes catching one of them reasonably close by, following it. "These would likely be 1st Wing's patrol. I'd hazard a guess that given the time of day it's either 3rd, 7th, or 11th Squadron's shift."

Lissa grumbled, "Frederick, how could you _possibly_ know any of that?" Putting on her best impression of the stuffy lieutenant, she stomped around briefly, imitating his previous statement in her best deep voice. "Nobody wants to hear about stuff like that their first time in Ylisstol!"

Having failed to read her audience, however, Lissa turned to see Robin furiously questioning Frederick over the exact minutia of the pegasus knights' and their troop organization. Chrom smiled, affectionately mussing up his sister's hair while waving at one of the low-flying riders.

As they reached the city gates, a large bell chimed for the arrival of the prince and princess, and soon they were on approach to the palace flanked by a procession of decorated knights. At every opportunity Robin attempted to get a look at the city, though it was a challenge with the crowding around by the townsfolk. Not sure how much he enjoyed the direct attention, he drew up his coat's hood, letting it keep his face in shadow. Easy to do, given the high noon sun.

"Is it proper to allow someone like me into the palace?"

Chrom turned and raised his eyebrow with an incredulous smirk. "Did you forget that you're surrounded by royalty?" He saw Robin fumble around with a self-doubting response for a moment, before mercifully cutting him off again. "Our sister has made herself famous for her legendary involvement with the common folk. These honour guards are for her protection usually, as she makes her rounds to the orphanages, churches, and markets. It's how she inspires loyalty."

Frederick nodded. "The exalted Emmeryn decided very early on in her rule to cultivate her reputation and the people's loyalty through very different means than that of their father. Loyalty through kindness, rather than military zeal."

Robin nodded, more to himself than anybody else, as they began their ascent toward the palace grounds. He didn't even notice how much time actually passed after their arrival, too caught up in admiring the beautiful stonework of the statues and columns throughout the palace, or the gardens woven into every little bit of spare outdoor space. Between Chrom and Lissa privately speaking with their sister, a brief tour of the grounds from Frederick, and simply waiting around, several hours had indeed passed. A hot meal was at the forefront of his mind as Chrom and Lissa finally emerged from the throne room, a tall, extravagantly-dressed woman following them.

At the very instant Frederick could see her, he hurriedly kicked the back of Robin's leg, forcing him to kneel. He himself did the same. "Your Grace!"

Dainty, soft footsteps carried down the corridor as the exalt approached. "Stand, dear Frederick. Stand, friend." Her voice was smooth and smooth, and Robin could tell she was trying not to let any inflections slip through. The pair returned to their feet as she approached, and she offered them a smile as warm as the sunlight shining in through the palace windows. Upon her forehead was emblazoned the very same symbol that marked Chrom's shoulder, the Exalt's Brand, he called it. The sight of it caused Robin to fidget, pulling the glove on his right hand tighter.

"Your grace," Robin said, placing his hand on his chest and bowing forward a touch.

"You are Robin, I presume?"

"That I am," he said quietly. Though he seemed to have some grasp of proper etiquette, the exact details were foggy.

"Chrom tells me you were instrumental in saving Southtown, and at great risk to yourself, no less. So instrumental, in fact, he wishes to bring you into the Shepherds as a field strategist, if I'm not mistaken." She gave a polite nod. "On behalf of the people of Ylisse, let my voice speak for them in thanking you."

Robin shrunk a little, rubbing the back of his neck, "Oh, I'm not sure I'm the one which deserves such," the exalt's raised hand stopped him.

"And yet you are receiving praise regardless. Accept such blessings where you can, for every one of them is precious." Robin nodded in apology and allowed her to continue. "I am the Exalt Emmeryn, firstborn child of Mercury. And by the will of Chrom, I do hereby," she suddenly begins tapping Robin's shoulders gently with the head of her staff, "name you a knight of the Order of Shepherds. May your watchful eye keep safe the flock."

Robin's eyes went wide, and he turned to look at Chrom over Emmeryn's shoulder. " _Knight?_ "

Chrom shrugged, a smug smile on his lips. "I figured you'd overthink it and start to refuse if I gave you any warning."

Robin frowned in shock and protest, standing straight again. He was considerably taller than Emmeryn was, he'd neglected to notice. Only managing to get the words "but I" out of his mouth before the crescent-moon head of the staff pressed into his chest.

"My word Chrom, you were right," the exalt chuckled, "have I been so blind to my people's problems that they truly don't understand kindness when they see it?" Her smile rose practically into her cheekbones. "You are to serve in the Shepherds. Thus, you serve Ylisse as a knight."

Robin sank back onto one knee, eyes toward Emmeryn's shoes. "I gladly accept this generous gift, your grace."

The nodded, her staff tapping Robin on the side to get him to stand up once again. "Splendid. That completes the inductions for the newest recruits, then."

Chrom nodded to Frederick, disappointment apparent on his face. "Sully brought us two others. Recruitment's not healthy anywhere, it seems."

Emmeryn stood tall, slowly and elegantly walking back towards the throne room. "It is a sign of peace, my dear brother. As I have said to your friend, accept such blessings where you find them." She leaned toward Chrom, both of their backs to the rest, and the exalt whispered, "I share your concern. We can speak of this at a later time."

The prince nodded, and stepped back toward Lissa. "If you would be so kind, sister. Robin ought to see his new accommodations, and perhaps meet the rest."

Perking up, Lissa stood on her toes and smiled. "Absolutely! Robin, let's take you to the Shepherds' Garrison."

The walk took another hour out of the day, Lissa taking the time to give Robin a good look at the city along their way to the Garrison. The large stonework bastion built into Ylisstol's west wall served as the home for the Shepherds, being part stable, armory, smithy, and barracks. The deep sky blue banner of the order hung everywhere it could, from the walls and flagpoles to the barding and surcoats.

A few faces poked themselves up from various bits of business as Lissa walked through the Garrison's halls, until they were approached by an imposing woman of tall stature and short hair. "Welcome home, princess," she said to Lissa, her voice deep and boyish. "This what you brought for us?" She asked while giving Robin a bit of a sizing up.

Lissa nodded. "That's right! Sully, I'd like you to meet Robin. He's going to be the Shepherd's new tactician. Robin, this is Sergeant Evangelina Sullivan," the full name caused the woman to wince and fight back a glare at the princess.

Shaking her head, her mess of short red hair getting even less kept, she narrowed her eyes at Robin. "It's **Sully**. If I _ever_ hear otherwise your mouth will answer to my boot. We clear?"

Robin stood ramrod stiff, but not out of nervousness. He'd been assuming the posture of a military outfit since he'd walked inside, and at the question he simply nodded quickly. "Crystal clear, ma'am."

Sully gestured for the pair to follow, "good! I'll rally everybody so we can get introductions out of the way sooner rather than later." They reached a sizable hall, where two long tables were set up near a massive fireplace, which was currently roaring and roasting some large bird, as well boiling a heavy iron pot of some sort. Flanking the walls were several suits of armor, as well as assorted crates in varying conditions.

Sully pulled out a whistle very similar to the one hanging from Lissa's necklace, and let out a single shrill note, which reverberated loudly throughout the Garrison. "Shepherds attend, mess hall! Don't make me impatient!"

The man by the fire, a brawny fellow, had already spun around as he heard the trio approach, leaving the food to cook for the moment. "Afternoon Sully! What's with the Frederick impression?"

Sully narrowed her eyes. "Don't make me clock you, Vaike. You'll go from stirring pots to scrubbing them if that damn mouth of yours keeps going!"

The man called Vaike held up one finger, frowning. "Hold on Sully, I just need to say one other thing, it's important." There was a short pause and he let out a thunderous belch. Lissa's lip curled in disgust, and Sully's eye twitched a bit, but Robin couldn't help but smirk.

"I'll have your blonde head on a plate, Vaike," Sully threatened, and before long the room was starting to fill with people. Most of them looked like they belonged, barring Robin himself, a short brown haired youth probably no older than sixteen, and a well-dressed fellow with long, flowing hair.

Sully addressed the hall. "Some of you have been eager to meet our new recruits. Unfortunately, it seems as if enlistment has been down across the country, so we only have three." She walked over to the side where the long-haired gentleman and the teenager stood. "This here," she placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, "is Donnel. He's from Farfort, and cut his teeth fighting bandits with nothing but a sodding pitchfork and a pot for a helmet."

"You went as far as Farfort?" The question came from a man in green armor.

Sully shook her head. "I met with him at Stillford. He'd been looking to volunteer in the army. I got to him first," she threw her head back proudly, just as the well-dressed man stepped forward.

"You are lucky to have him, just as I, Virion, was fortunate enough to run into the lovely sergeant," he introduced himself loudly. "I could not simply sit by idle in the lonely walls of my villa as a noble organization such as yours was so in need."

Sully rolled her eyes as Virion spoke, and shoved him backwards towards the wall, speaking again to everyone present. "In short, yes, he is that annoying. No, he doesn't stop. The good news is that he's three times the shot Captain Chrom is with a bow."

"That may be the best compliment you've ever given me, my dear S-" he was immediately winded by Sully's gauntlet slapping into his gut hard enough to wind him.

Thoroughly amused by the banter, Robin folded his arms as the other recruits were given their introductions. Lissa smiled at him encouragingly as Sully turned to him. "This was the captain's catch. I wasn't given much detail about him. Lissa?"

Her feet kicked up on a crate from her seat, she shrugged her shoulders. "Robin can speak for himself, can't he?"

Both Sully and Robin shrugged for different reasons, but he didn't hesitate to step forward. His words were already carefully picked out as he began, regaling the last couple of weeks to the rest of the Shepherds, leaving out certain key details, such as the eruption on the road, his amnesiac state, his former life's involvement with the Grimleal, or that his swordplay was is its infancy.

"The captain," Sully followed up, "was apparently so impressed by his tactical ability that he'll serve as our field strategist. Wouldn't be my first call to let an unknown or a rookie call the shots, honestly, but those are our orders."

Lissa spoke up after that, "I don't think you'll be disappointed, Sully."

The sergeant shrugged and nodded. "Good enough for me! Vaike, I'm calling for an early meal to get everyone acquainted, can you manage that?"

Robin's eyes took a minute to settle on which one was Vaike, numerous names being thrown at him all at once, but he managed to single him out as he nodded and returned to the cooking pot.

"Are we all here or," Sully looked around, doing a quick head count. "Divinity damn him, did Kellam just decide to skip out on this or," she was interrupted as one of the suits of armor in the corner shifted and spoke up.

"I'm right here, sergeant. I was here when you came in," said a soft voice. Robin turned, and sure enough, an unassuming man stood unflinching in the imposing suit of armor trimmed with flecks of orange heraldry.

"Sarge is blind," came a voice that Robin could not pinpoint, and the room was suddenly happily laughing. Looking to Lissa, he suddenly decided to just allow himself to become overwhelmed with all the new names and faces, and immediately interjected himself into the revelry, exchanging names with a half-dozen more Shepherds in the next minute. He wore a smile on his face the entire time, more genuine fun than he'd had since he could remember.

The meal was late, burned, and undercooked in some places, but he didn't care. Robin was too busy memorizing names and facts. Miriel was impossible to understand, but he desperately wanted to ask her about history and magic both. Stahl, the other sergeant, was both professional and welcoming, in contrast to the rough Sully. Virion, while a bit of a fop, was incredibly friendly, if a shameless flirt.

The night went on and on, until, before he knew what had happened, Robin had awoken in an unfamiliar bedchamber with a headache, a dry mouth, and no memory of anything after a certain time. His panic was short lived, however, as he realized that it was not more supernatural amnesia to blame, but the foul alcohol on his breath.


End file.
